Wedding Fever

by Susan Crosby

“You’re right, of course.”

  She moved in on him. Her eyes shimmered; her mouth quivered. “Now what?”

  “Now we go back to where we were.”

  She made a rude sound.

  “I know it’s a lot to ask,” he said. “I know you don’t understand.”

  “Well, you’re right about that. And I’d ask you to explain, except that nght now the last thing I want is to hear any lame excuses. So, you want to chalk this one up to experience?” she asked, a haughty lift to her brows. “Okay. Placing blame isn’t going to help. And, in truth, I’d have to accept some of the blame because I had expectations that didn’t match yours. That’s not your fault. But now we’ve got a bridge between us. Sometime, we’re going to have to cross it or burn it.”

  Maggie swallowed the lump in her throat. Damn him. Damn him. She loved him. She loved the stupid rigidity of his stupid decisions. She loved that he was confused and bewildered and unsure. She loved that he couldn’t stop himself this afternoon, then was burdened by his conscience. Because he believed in rules to prevent chaos, he’d convinced himself he was doing the right thing.

  The ache of rejection pounded in her head. She’d known he wouldn’t be an easy man to love. She just wished he wouldn’t keep proving her right.

  “So,” she said with false cheer. “Tomorrow we start anew.”

  “That’s more than generous, Magnolia.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a hell of a woman, honey.” She started to walk away, then stopped and looked at him. “Why did you come charging out—with a gun? Who were you expecting?”

  “I didn’t believe it could be you. Anyone else would only be an intruder.”

  She’d thought she was hurting, but deep in his eyes she saw apology and pain, too. The glimpse into his soul comforted her, and gave her hope. You don’t have a clue, James Diego Duran. I’m the best thing that ever happened to you. And I’m not going to go gently out of your life.

  Eleven

  “I hate being without my car.” The statement had become Maggie’s mantra for the past week. “What’s taking so long for the part to come in?” she asked J.D. as he drove her to class.

  “The age of your car, the mechanic said. I already explained that, Magnolia. When it comes in, he’ll call us.”

  “Aren’t you getting sick of driving me everywhere?”

  “Not at all.”

  “But you can’t even go for your run until you’ve dropped me at school. Your day gets off to such a late start.”

  He tossed her a quick glance. “It doesn’t bother me.”

  “Well, it bothers me,” she grumbled, slouching in the seat. “I don’t see why we can’t rent a car until mine’s ready.”

  “Because I’m available to take you.”

  She blew out a breath. “All this togetherness is...”

  “Driving you crazy?” Was she operating under the misconception that it was any easier for him? Memories of their lovemaking haunted and teased him.

  She offered him a reluctant smile. “The only time you leave me alone is after you’ve taken me home from work, when I couldn’t possibly go anywhere, anyway. Now, tell me again what it is you’re doing at that time of right...or morning, actually.”

  “I am developing my own business. The man who I’m consulting with works days. I work nights. It’s the only time we can meet.”

  Hastings was finally cooperating. After two more aborted attempts to meet, he’d sent his underlings to do the actual cash transfer. It was a start.

  J.D. cast another glance Magnolia’s way and saw her drum her fingers on the armrest. He wished he could say something to help her relax.

  “Just as long as you’re not meeting another woman,” she said quietly as they pulled into the school entrance.

  The words hit him hard. “What? Late at night? Is that what’s got you so worried?”

  “Well, it makes sense. There’s less contact between us with every passing day. I just figured you had to be—”

  “How can you even thank it?” He pulled into the drop-off area in front of the campus library and turned off the engine. Of course there was less contact—he couldn’t take much more of living with her, being pampered by her, being her husband in fact but not in deed. Despite what she thought, he wasn’t superhuman. “I never thought my honor would be in question.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said, toying with the buckle on her book bag. “I don’t know what to think. You seem glad to be chauffeuring me everywhere. Most men would hate it.”

  “I don’t.”

  She eyed him speculatively. “This has something to do with the gun, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  She held up a hand and ticked off items as she spoke. “One, the gun. Two, your fear for my safety. Three, Brendan Hastings. They’re all tied together somehow. I just can’t figure what your late-night appointments have to do with everything.”

  “What makes you think Hastings has anything to do with this?”

  “You’ve never been deferential to him, as an employee should be to a member of the club. And he seems to taunt you somehow, sometimes just with his eyes. He isn’t the one who’s giving you business advice, is he? Because I wouldn’t trust anything he says.”

  He angled toward her. “Hastings is not pleased that I snatched you from under his nose. He’s probably denied little in life. We don’t like each other. That’s a fact. But the reasons are obvious.”

  “So, it’s just a male territorial thing? Because I understand feeling territorial. All women do.” She looked out the side window, hiding her face from him.

  He cupped her shoulder.

  “Don’t. Just...don’t.” She twisted out of reach, grabbing the door handle at the same time and opening the door. She hesitated. “Are you working for Brendan?”

  With an oath, J.D. grabbed her arm and spun her toward him. “Brendan Hastings runs a prostitution ring that stretches from here to his home in Miami. Do you think I would work for someone like that?”

  Frustrated, he let go of her to clench the steering wheel and look out the window.

  She climbed out of the car, then leaned in to grab her book bag “Not by choice.”

  She stared at him for a full ten seconds. He stared back.

  “I think when you trust someone,” she said slowly, “you should trust completely.”

  “I think you’re going to be late for class.”

  He winced as she slammed the door. He’d been a fool to think this could work.

  He watched her hurry up the path beside the library, saw Novacek in his latest disguise push himself away from the building and follow her, then he started the engine and headed for home, needing to run, needing to figure out where to go from here.

  Brendan Hastings stopped at the maître d’s podium on his way out of the Carola that night.

  “Is there something you need?” J.D. asked.

  “Let’s get together tonight.”

  “All right.” J.D. caught Maggie staring at them from the door to the dining room, her brow furrowed. Could she be any more obvious? Dios. He should have bitten his tongue.

  Although she hadn’t been Hastings’s server, her revulsion of him had been clear all night—in her posture, in the way her mouth drew into a hard line, in the way she wouldn’t make eye contact, even for a second.

  “You received verification of your deposit?” J.D. asked as Hastings lingered.

  “If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be standing here.” He turned to leave, then glanced back at J.D. “How much does your wife know about your little side business? If she knows—”

  “She does not.”

  “Really? I’m sensing something different about her. I hope I’m wrong. I don’t like loose ends.”

  “Do not threaten me.”

  “Or what?”

  “I am not without resources of my own, Mr. Hastings.” Damn it, Magnolia. Stay put. No such luck. She walked to where the men stood. Resig
ned, J.D. invited her near with a gesture. She slid an arm around his waist and leaned against him as he tugged her closer. Her fingers dug into him, revealing feelings she probably thought she was hiding well.

  “Ah, Maggie, my dear. You’re looking exceptionally beautiful tonight.”

  “Marriage agrees with me.”

  “I can see that. So, am I forgiven for New Year’s Eve?”

  She placed a palm against J.D.’s abdomen and smiled at him. “Of course. You didn’t know.”

  J.D. almost laughed. She thought she was protecting him in some way. How the tables had turned.

  The front door opened and laughter floated in with the cool winter evening. They all turned as Misty Champion breezed in on Judge Shaunnessey’s arm. “Behave, Duncan,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Well. Good evening, everyone.”

  The judge cupped her elbow lightly and led her forward. He looked years younger, Maggie decided, and Misty glowed.

  “I met your wife today, Brendan,” Misty said. “She’s absolutely charming.”

  The color drained from his face. “My wife is in town?”

  “Oh, dear. Did I ruin a surprise? I was sure you’d seen each other by now. Oh. I’m so sorry. Please don’t let on to her.”

  “Wait,” he called as they started to turn away. “Where did you see her?”

  “We met at Gregorio’s, that delightful new avant-garde designer on Maiden Lane. When she told me she hadn’t seen you in weeks, we decided she needed something special to wear tonight.” She leaned toward him. “I hadn’t figured you for a leather-and-chains man, Brendan.” She patted the judge’s arm. “Of course, I hadn’t figured Duncan for one, either. Life is full of surprises, isn’t it? Good evening.”

  Brendan visibly pulled himself together after the couple left. “Well. It seems I’m in for a treat tonight. I guess that means my other plans need to be canceled.”

  He bid them good-night.

  “I had a hard time looking him in the eye, knowing what I know now,” Maggie commented as Brendan left. “Can’t you do anything about him?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like report him to the police. Like get him kicked out of here so we don’t have to look at him. He makes my skin crawl.”

  “Believe me, I’m no happier about this than you are.”

  “Well, I’m going to talk to Judge Shaunnessey about it. There must be something we can do.”

  “Leave it alone, Magnolia. It’s being handled.” He couldn’t tell her anything else. Hastings had already picked up on something. If she knew more, she’d reveal more. Dios. What a mess.

  “How do you—Never mind. Don’t ask, don’t tell, right? I’ll tell you one thing. He’s afraid of his wife.”

  J.D. was thinking the same thing. This was information that couldn’t wait until morning. “I have to go out tonight.”

  Maggie moved away from him, knowing she had to get back to work. Knowing she had to break the tempting contact. For too many days, they hadn’t touched.

  She was convinced now that Brendan had Diego in some kind of hold. He was too strong, too self-confident, to let anyone command him; therefore, the hold had to be...personal.

  “Why do you have to go out? Brendan will be with his wife.”

  “Leave it alone, Magnolia.”

  She crossed her arms. “Well, that’s progress. You didn’t tell me not to worry my pretty little head about it.”

  “If I’d thought I would live to tell about it, I would have.”

  She smiled reluctantly. She wanted the awkwardness between them to end. She wanted the ease they’d found with each other during the first two weeks of their marriage, before they’d lost their heads and made love. Before everything had changed.

  She leaned closer to whisper dramatically. “Are you a leather-and-chains man, honey?”

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “I can’t say that I am.”

  “You can’t say, or you’re not?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Good. I didn’t think so, but then, who would have thought Judge Shaunnessey...”

  “I think that is a matter of who, not what.”

  “As it should be. Listen, since tomorrow’s Saturday and I don’t have school, you can sleep in. Just leave the car keys on the table for me so I can go shopping in the morning.”

  “Hey, Maggie.” Ruthie, her fellow waitress stuck her head around the corner and whispered loudly, “I’m taking half of your tips.”

  “Be right there.” She sent one last serious look Diego’s way. “Just be careful.”

  “I always am, novia.”

  Maggie couldn’t find his car keys anywhere, so they had to be in his bedroom. She glanced at the mantel clock. Nine a.m. She knew he hadn’t come home until almost three. She didn’t want to wake him, but she wanted to get her grocery shopping done so she could spend the afternoon with Jasmine and the baby.

  Lord, she was tired. She eyed Diego’s closed bedroom door. She wouldn’t mind crawling under the blankets with him and sleeping a while.

  She shook her head. She really needed to spend some time away from the apartment by herself. For that she needed car keys.

  She opened the door to his room as quietly as she could and peeked in. When the lump under the quilt didn’t move, she tiptoed in, searching the room with her eyes. Not seeing the keys, she headed to the chair where he’d draped his jeans. She lifted the pants, slid her fingers into the right hand pocket—

  “You’d make a lousy spy,” came the sleep-roughened voice before he rolled over and looked at her. “Did you know you sigh very loudly when you’re irritated?”

  She dropped the pants. Her face heated. “Then I must spend a lot of time sighing these days.”

  He grinned. Slowly, it faded to a frown. He sat up. “Come here.”

  “No.”

  “I won’t bite.”

  “Don’t order me.”

  “Come here, please, Magnolia.” He patted the bed beside him.

  Maggie sat, tucking a leg under her. He cupped her chin and stared into her eyes.

  “Are you ill?”

  “No, why?”

  “You don’t look yourself.”

  She tugged out of his grasp. “I’m tired, that’s all.”

  He placed his palm on her forehead. “You’re warm.”

  “I’m fine. I need your car keys so that I can go to the store. I told you last night.”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  Maggie shot off the bed. “I want to go alone.” She enunciated each word distinctly “I’m tired of you dogging my steps, Diego. I need some time by myself. Besides, when you’re along, we spend twice as much money as we should. You’re an impulse buyer.”

  “It’s the first time I’ve enjoyed shopping,” he said mildly, watching her too closely for her comfort. “I’ve learned a lot about what to look for when selecting produce and meat. You would deny me another lesson?”

  “Oh, right. You couldn’t care less about going to the grocery store. What’s the real reason?”

  “I like shopping with you. That’s the real reason, Magnolia”

  The sincerity on his face irritated her as much as it flattered her. She threw up her hands. “All right. I give up. Get your butt—” she paused to flash him a sultry smile, the memory of him vivid in her mind “—your very nice butt, by the way, in the shower. I’m not sitting around all morning waiting for you.”

  “You are ill,” J.D. announced when they got back from the store. He set down the bags of groceries he carried, set hers aside, as well, then touched her forehead, knowing already that she was feverish. Her eyes were glazed, her face flushed. “Dios, Magnolia. You’re burning up.”

  “I don’t feel so good,” she said in a tiny voice, reaching for the counter for support. “Must be that flu that’s been going around school.”

  He lifted her into his arms and she collapsed against him. The heat from her penetrated his clothes and warmed his own skin.

  Standi
ng her beside her bed, he pulled back the covers and fluffed two pillows. When he turned back to her, he saw she was trying to toe off her shoes.

  “Sit,” he said.

  “Don’t order me.” She sat, anyway.

  “I should have had ‘obey’ put into the marriage vows,” he muttered as he crouched before her and slipped her shoes off.

  “Wouldn’t have mattered. You promised to love and you don’t. I could have promised to obey and had it mean as little.”

  He held the socks he’d just removed as he looked at her. She was sitting up but her eyes were closed and she swayed a little. Guilt. Just what he needed on top of everything else he was dealing with.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean that.”

  But she had. He knew she had.

  “What do you want to wear?” he asked, ignoring everything else.

  “Could I wear a T-shirt of yours?”

  He pulled a T-shirt from a drawer and helped her undress, sliding the shirt over her head before removing her bra. His hands brushed her body, felt the warmth. She kept her eyes closed the whole time.

  “Do you have a thermometer?” he asked.

  “Mmm-hmm.” She fell against the pillows and sighed. “Cool. ”

  He pushed most of the bedding to the foot of the bed, leaving just the sheet over her. From the bathroom he got the thermometer and stuck it in her mouth, holding it there as she seemed to drift to sleep. He pulled it out and angled it until he could see what it registered—100.6. Not as bad as he’d feared, but bad enough. He brushed her hair from her face, watched her snuggle deeper into the pillows.

  After a few minutes, he left her to call his doctor’s office and get instructions on how to care for her. He filled a pitcher with water and set it beside her bed, woke her up to drink some and take some aspirin. Then he called a substitute waitress and tried to get out of work himself. The manager of the club told him he could let him leave at ten o’clock, no earlier.

  He’d never taken care of anyone before. He sat beside her watching her sleep, wondering at the feelings of tenderness and worry. Of course she’d gotten under his skin. He’d known she would. But he’d thought it would be just a physical irritation, not one that would tug at something deeper inside him.